


Until Death Do Us Apart

by Elaine27



Series: May every winter change to spring [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3991699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elaine27/pseuds/Elaine27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d never felt so empty before. It was almost frightening. There were no thoughts running through his head, no questions clawing at his heart as Merlin drove him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Death Do Us Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Huge THANKS to ivefoundmygoldfish (melonpanparade) for being an awesome beta! :D
> 
> Since reading 'You're an Asshole But I Love You' by ChangingTheCircumstances, in my head Percival's real name is Alastair.
> 
> This is part of the **Spring-Series**

**“What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?”** \- The Vow

~oOo~ 

He’d never felt so empty before. It was almost frightening, the numbness with which he nodded when Merlin told him what had happened. The indifference with which he raised his glass and drowned it in one go, not tasting anything. There were no thoughts running through his head, no questions clawing at his heart as Merlin drove him home.

Percival didn’t shout and he didn’t cry or curse. He didn’t break down or scream at Arthur. In fact he showed no reaction whatsoever, and that scared Merlin. Studying his friend’s face through the back mirror, all Merlin saw was the same expressionless face, staring off into nothingness. 

As soon as they came to a halt in the darkness in front of his house, Percival slowly exited the car and got his things from the trunk. He moved automatically, like he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing. Only when he closed the lid and turned towards the house did he pause for a moment. He stood in the rain, frowning as if he’d forgotten something he couldn’t remember. But before Merlin could become concerned, Percival took a step forward. And another. And another, until he was standing in front of the door, water dripping from his suit.

He couldn’t remember opening the door, couldn’t tell when he’d taken off his shoes or put down his bag. He moved through the house without a purpose, taking in the brown jacket lying over the kitchen chair. The note pinned on the fridge in the kitchen. 

Percival knew he should feel something, anything. But his head was empty, as was his heart. 

Without fully realising what he was doing, he hastily moved from room to room, picking up pieces of clothing that weren’t his. The jacket, a shirt, the familiar blue cardigan and a dark green tie. The sight of them was suddenly unbearable, awakening feelings he wasn't yet ready to face. He carried them up the stairs and into the bedroom. Careful, as if afraid they might fall to dust beneath his fingers, he spread them out on the bed. One by one he folded them before finally putting them away in the closet. As soon as they’d disappeared, Percival breathed in deeply, only now realising how difficult it had become to breathe. But as his gaze wondered around the room, the tightness was back, heavier than before. Not being able to suppress the urge, he moved forward, putting the black glasses into the drawer along with the picture frame and the book lying atop the drawer.

Only after Percival had removed all things from his sight that weren’t his – things that were reminding him of the absence of the person they belonged to – did he slow down again. For a brief terrifying moment realization had started to set in. But now that all he could see belonged to him, the emptiness was back, comforting in its own way. He took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to face to empty room. But the quietness of the house was overwhelmingly heavy and Percival covered his ears desperately, slowly sliding down beside the bed onto the floor.

As he stretched out his hand to steady himself his fingers came into contact with a wrinkled, white shirt lying under the bed. And without warning, his mind was flooded with memories, and the feeling of the soft fabric beneath his fingers was all it took to break the man. The emptiness inside him was replaced with a flood of emotions so fast that doubled over in pain. 

Curled into a ball on the rug beside the bed, Percival buried his face into James’ shirt. His body shook with violent sobs, but his tears were silent.

He stayed there, clinging to the white material, until he no longer had any tears. Exhaustion soon overcame him and he could feel himself finally drifting into unconsciousness, his body too tired.  
Already half asleep, Percival spoke for the first time since he'd left HQ. He whispered a word, asked the one question everyone asked. “Why…?”

“Because it was time.”

Percival opened his eyes slowly and found blue ones staring back at him lovingly, not really realising the presence of the person those words belonged to was impossible. “But it’s not fair,” he whispered weakly, almost pleading.

James smiled his charming smile, stroking his thumb along Percy’s jaw and shaking his head. “Life’s not fair, Al, we both know that.”

“But what am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?” Percival asked, drinking in the sight of his beautiful face, losing himself in the depth of his eyes.

James reached out and carefully cradled Percival against his chest, burying his nose in his hair. “You will find a way, you always have. And you have Roxy,” he added, tightening his grip in Percival’s hair. “Promise me you will take care of Roxy.”

“Of course,” Percival whispered, his voice muffled by the fabric of James’ shirt. He breathed in deeply, taking in the familiar scent, committed the feeling of warm skin to his memory, the beating of his heart, and the deep rumble of James voice. “Please, James.” He was pleading now, although he knew it was in vain. “Stay. Please...”

James laughed lightly and Percival commited that to memory as well. He buried it deep in his heart for the moments of unbearable pain he knew would come. “You know I can't, Alastair, no matter how hard I want to.” 

Stroking Percival's head and back, his face buried in his hair, James closed his eyes and sighed. “And dear God, do I want to.”

The motion of James’ chest rising and falling, his hand stroking his hair and the steady beating of his heart beneath his hand was the last thing Percival felt before he fell asleep.

And he would wake to a new day, a day without James. A day not as bright and colourful as before, but a new day nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought a lot about Percival's reaction after James' death and how in control he looked while raising his glass to Lancelot. This is what I like to imagine happened.


End file.
